


London

by prettybirdy979



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Case Fic, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being mistaken for someone isn't always a good thing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	London

**Author's Note:**

> For a [prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/8651.html?thread=38244555) on the kinkmeme. I seen to have the crossover bug recently...
> 
> Warning- There are brief mentions of torture in this...
> 
> Thanks to elvendork_lee for betaing!

Sherlock wasn’t in.

This wasn’t a completely unusual state of affairs, as Sherlock and John did have some form of separate lives. Occasionally John wouldn’t know where he was, they weren’t _that_ co-dependant.

It was just, when John didn’t know where Sherlock was he didn’t usually have a message on his blog stating that Sherlock had been kidnapped.

John looked the two sentence long message over again ( _We have Sherlock Holmes and will kill him if you contact the police._ _£10,000 and notes on all recent cases for his return._ ) and tried Sherlock’s mobile again. It was a prank, it had to be. Now if Sherlock would just answer his damn phone it would all be fine.

But John had been trying to contact Sherlock for over an hour. There was a chance, a very small chance that this wasn’t a prank… If Sherlock didn’t pick up soon John would have to-

John’s increasing worried thoughts were derailed at that moment by the door to the flat opening and a soaking wet and frustrated Sherlock stepping through the door. The man barely glanced at John before heading for the bathroom.

However after a few steps he stopped and turned back to look at John as though he had only just processed the data he gained from his quick glance. “You’re worried. Why? I ‘ve barely been gone an hour.”

John just motioned at the computer. Sherlock bent down and read the message on the blog, and looked back at John incredulity on his face. 

“And you thought that meant-“

“No. No. Not at first… but then you didn’t answer your phone and I began to wonder…”

Sherlock smirked. “Whoever posted that is an idiot, who thinks faking a kidnapping is as simple as a post on your blog. And someone pushing me into a client’s pool ruining my phone was just a stroke of luck for them. ” John gave a huff of laughter at the thought. Sherlock’s smirk became a smile and he threw something out of his pocket at John before returning to his path to the shower.

John turned the ruined phone over a few times, basking in the relief he felt.

 ********

 “Please! I’m just-” A scream. “I’m not-”

“You’re lying.”

The cries of the young ginger haired man echoed through the night but no one heard.

********

 _(Dear Mr Holmes,_

 _My name is Carolyn Knapp-Shappey and I need your help…)_

*******

Sherlock ignored the first email.

It was two days after the ‘kidnapping’ and Lestrade had found him a case involving a serial rapist who targeted young ladies on bicycles, but chose to include a wedding ceremony in the attack. Sherlock therefore chose to ignore the email from the airline owner complaining of her missing pilot. He had probably just quit or run away and hadn’t bothered to tell her. Boring.

Not worth his time to even reply.

So it was a complete surprise for him when Mrs Knapp-Shappey turned up at his flat looking for his help.

He was ‘relaxing’ (sulking as John called it) on the sofa when he heard John opening the door as he returned from his shift at the surgery. He could also hear a female voice, older; that he didn’t recognise and a thrill went through him as he deduced it was a client. Sherlock slipped into his bedroom to change, knowing John would keep the woman entertained until he emerged.

********

“Is Sherlock Holmes here?” John was startled when an elderly lady damn near attacked him as he tried to enter 221B Baker Street.

“Yes ma’am. I’m his flatmate and colleague, Dr Watson. And you are?”

“Carolyn Knapp-Shappey. Look, can you take me to see him now? I have a case for him and I need to hurry up and get back. I’ve left Arthur with Douglas at the Eye, and God knows that can only end in tears.”

Bemused, John led her up to the flat. Sherlock wasn’t in the living room when they entered, but his coat and scarf still were so the man was probably just in his bedroom.

“Where is he?!” Carolyn burst out as soon as she saw the empty flat.

“Don’t worry Mrs Knapp-Shappey. He’s here; he’s just in his room. He’ll be out in a moment. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“No. What I would like is to talk to the ‘great’ detective who may be the only one who can find my missing pilot!”

“Dull. Your pilot has just left you and not informed you of the fact.” John flinched at Sherlock’s cruel words and tone as he entered the living room.

It was nothing compared to Carolyn’s reaction. She jumped (actually jumped!) and spun to face Sherlock. The blood drained from her face. “Martin? But… your hair…” She collapsed into the nearest chair as John moved towards her in concern.

Sherlock just turned his head with a questioning expression. “Interesting. What did you call me?”

John passed Carolyn a cup of tea which she slipped before speaking. “Sorry…it’s just you look like…you’re not, but my God. You could be twins except Martin has…”

Sherlock all but leaped into the opposite chair to Carolyn. “Start from the beginning and leave nothing out.” 

********

Carolyn took a deep breath before starting. “I run a small charter jet service called MJN which employs two…well you would call them pilots, Martin Creiff and Douglas Richardson, and my son Arthur as a steward. Martin is the Captain and he’s the fussiest, most nervous, stickler there is. He never does anything impulsive… until three days ago when he didn’t stay the night in our hotel. We assumed he had decided to sleep elsewhere, no matter how out of character it is, but then he didn’t show for the flight home. I tried calling but he didn’t answer his phone. It’s not like him at all, so I tried to report it to the police but they wouldn’t take the report as it hadn’t been long enough and all of his stuff wasn’t in the hotel room and he hadn’t spent the night there. Even after they took the report they said it was probably he had just gone home without telling us or had a family emergency.”

“But you don’t think so.” Sherlock interjected.

“Or course I don’t! If I thought that would I be here?!” Carolyn snapped. “He doesn’t have the money for him to randomly go home and as far as I know he isn’t close to his family. Besides, he loves flying and would never…could never abandon us like this. And he knows we can’t afford…” Her voice trailed off as she finished speaking, which Sherlock noted.

He thought it over for a moment before asking, “Do you have a photo of him?”

Carolyn passed John her empty cup as she fished into her handbag for her purse. “Here,” she said as she pulled out a well-worn photo. “He’s the one on the right.” Her eyes met Sherlock as he took the photo and he could see the unshed tears in them.

But Sherlock would have been able to spot Martin without Carolyn’s hint. It was like looking into a mirror which twisted the details- they had the same features but Martin had none of Sherlock’s confidence (or arrogance, depending on your point of view) or _knowing_ eyes. He instead had an almost started look, complete with a wide eyed innocence and proud jut of the chin. In short, they were polar opposites.

 _And yet_ , Sherlock thought as he looked the photo over again, _if you were an idiot and weren’t thinking and you saw him while looking for me you might mistake us for the same person especially if you have heard of my acting abilities._

“Why are you in London, Mrs Knapp Shappey?” Sherlock asked.

“A client booked us to fly him from Paris to here. We’ve had to find him another airline to fly home on and pay for that ticket as we don’t have a pilot to replace Martin. We’re stuck here with Gertie until Martin turns up.” Her words were those of a disinterested employer but her tone was that of a worried mother.

“I need to meet the rest of your employees. Who was the last one to see Martin?”

Carolyn was taken aback by Sherlock’s sudden turnaround in interest in the case. “Um, Douglas was I think. They were sharing a hotel room, and Martin went to bed while Douglas came down-“

“No. I’ll hear it from this Douglas. I don’t want to corrupt the data!” Sherlock leapt out of his and practically danced to get his coat, a delighted smile on his face.

“Where is Douglas?” John asked gently as he and Carolyn followed Sherlock down to the taxi.

“The London Eye with Arthur. Arthur wanted to see if going up there was like flying in an aeroplane and Douglas _volunteered_ to watch him while I came here…”

John gave her an odd look at that statement but Sherlock hailed a taxi then and he didn’t get a chance to ask. 

********

“Wow, Douglas! This is brilliant! Look Douglas, you can see the whole city from here!” Arthur was almost vibrating with excitement as he dashed from side to side of the capsule they were in. He was getting amused looks from the other people in the capsule with sympathetic ones directed at Douglas.

Douglas just rolled his eyes. Arthur’s enthusiasm was endearing, but Douglas wasn’t in the mood to find amusement in the antics of the simple steward. Martin had been missing for three days now, and this detective Carolyn had found was getting to be their last chance of finding him.

“Skipper would love this, wouldn’t he?” Arthur’s voice, soft and sad beside him, startled Douglas. He hid his jump and sighed.

“Are you kidding? Martin would spend the whole time complaining about the speed and the other people and-“

“So you miss him too?” Arthur cut into Douglas’ rant. He sighed again and didn’t reply. “Why won’t the police help, Douglas? He’s missing, and they’re supposed to help find him and they aren’t…” Arthur trailed off and sort of curled into himself while leaning more on the walls of the capsule.

Douglas didn’t want to have to explain this again, so he didn’t answer. Instead he moved closer to Arthur, offering him a wordless comfort. Arthur moved to put his head on Douglas’ arm but stopped when he spotted something.

“Douglas, is that… Skipper!” he cried.

Douglas leaned as far forward as he could trying to spot what Arthur could, but the angle was wrong and he couldn’t see where Arthur was pointing. “Arthur, where? I can’t see him!”

“There, there!” Arthur was pointing with increased enthusiasm. “Can’t you see him? He’s dyed his hair but it’s him!”

At this point Douglas checked his watch. They still had twenty five minutes of their ride left to go, give or take a few minutes. It would mean having to wait that long to see if there was any truth to Arthur’s claim…

“Douglas, do you think they could stop this and reverse it so we could get off? Or just detach this pod?”

It was going to be a long ride.

********

“Now Arthur, where did you think you saw Martin?”

They had just gotten off the Eye, and Douglas was leading Arthur through the crowds in search of Martin. Arthur’s glance kept darting around, focusing on any tallish man.

“I didn’t think I saw him Douglas, I did see him.” Arthur said happily, with a note of hurt in his voice. “And I saw him- THERE!” Arthur pointed suddenly completely excited. And Douglas instantly saw why.

In a break in the crowd there stood Martin. He had dyed his hair so it was black now, and was wearing what looked to be a very expensive long coat and scarf Douglas had never seen but it was Martin. He saw Douglas and Arthur and he smirked. Then with a swirl of his coat he turned and began to walk away.

“Martin!” Douglas cried and began to chase the missing pilot. He didn’t look back at the cry, but kept moving, craning his neck as though looking for something.

Suddenly he just stopped. Panting Douglas caught up to him, Arthur a step behind him. It took him a second to realise the reason Martin had stopped was he had found Carolyn. She was standing by a blonde haired man who looked slightly mad.

Carolyn spoke first. “Ah you’ve found them. Gentlemen, this is John Watson and-“

“Never mind introductions, I want to know how you found Mart-“ Douglas suddenly got a good look at the man beside him, and realised despite the near identical features this was not Martin.

“Fascinating. At a distance even Martin Creiff’s close friends mistake him for me. Which just proves how much of an idiot everyo-“the man sneered.

“Sherlock!” The blonde man interrupted Mart…Sherlock’s insult. “Not good. These people are missing their friend because someone thought he was you, the least you could do is attempt to be nice!”

“Why? I didn’t kidnap Martin Creiff.” Sherlock sounded completely confused. “Why do I have to be nice to make up for-“

“I’ll explain later.” By now the crew of MJN air were confused and (in Carolyn’s and Douglas’ case) getting very angry.

“Skipper?” Arthur was a step behind Douglas having taken cover there during Sherlock’s rant. His question received a glare from Sherlock which caused him to duck down behind Douglas, hiding with the childlike logic if he couldn’t see Sherlock, Sherlock couldn’t see him.

“Look, you.” Carolyn pointed at Sherlock. “Can you find my missing pilot or have I just wasted my time?!”

Sherlock looked insulted. “I can find him. It’s merely a matter of determining where he was taken from.” He turned to Douglas. “You were the last to see him, correct?”

“Yes. The four of us decided to go out for dinner three days ago. We went to a small restaurant, ‘Angelo’s’ I think it was called that Carolyn had had recommended to her by a friend for both its good and cheap food. But Martin kept getting odd looks from the manager. He got tired of the looks pretty quickly so he decided to take a walk while Arthur…I mean we, had dessert. We promised to bring him some and meet him out the front in a half hour. Half an hour later he was there waiting for us and the four of us split a taxi to return to the hotel. When we arrived we went to our separate rooms until I remembered Arthur had my wallet-don’t ask, it’s a long story involving more pasta than can be healthy. I went down to Arthur and Carolyn’s room to retrieve the wallet and when I returned Martin and his things were gone.” His voice caught on the last sentence but otherwise Douglas stayed very composed.

“How long were you gone?”

“Ten minutes, no more.”

Sherlock nodded at the answer, like it was the one he expected. “Why didn’t you report him missing early? Why wait until the morning when he didn’t show for the flight?”

Douglas immediately went on the defensive. “Because, as inept as Martin usually is at pulling women I assumed he had been successful with one during his walk and had simply taken his stuff there to spend the night. I thought the best-“

“And gave his captors the free reign needed to kidnap him.” Sherlock snapped. Douglas flinched as if he had been hit.

Sherlock huffed in annoyance before turning to the blonde man.

“Come on John! The game is on!” with a smile he turned to leave.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Carolyn demanded.

Sherlock turned to her with a glare. “I’m going to retrieve your missing pilot. Text me your number and I’ll give you the A&E we end up at.”

With that, Sherlock and John left leaving the gobsmacked MJN crew behind…well most of it.

“He’s a mean Skipper. I don’t like him.” Arthur said from his hiding place.

********

Martin was flying.

It was a usual thing for him to be doing, being that this was his hobby and he spent a lot of time doing it…but there was something unusual about this flight. He looked around trying to identify what the problem could be. There was Arthur juggling apples in the flight deck doorway, Carolyn was arguing with Douglas in the galley over the definition of a reasonable detour and everything was as abnormal as normal.

But for a moment Martin could feel rope around his wrists, and an edge of pain and coldness creeping in. He panicked and pushed the sensations away, they weren’t real. They were a nightmare and he was free of nightmares here.

 _“Martin, are you alright? You’re currently a pale green at the moment, quite different from your usual nervous paleness.”_ Douglas asked, turning to face Martin from the co-pilot’s seat _(and when had he gotten there, Martin hadn’t seen…)_.

“I’m fine. I’ve forgotten…Where are we flying today?”

 _“Bristol. A terribly dull place so you’re almost forgiven for forgetting it.”_ Douglas mocked.

“Bristol? But…wouldn’t it be faster to drive there?”

 _“You would know Martin. How many times have you diverted there since you joined my company? But no, it wouldn’t be. Not from London.”_ Carolyn was behind him ( _When had Carolyn come up behind him, she wasn’t a sneaky ninja type, that was Arthur wasn’t it?)_.

“London? When did we get there…?” Martin glanced around Gertie and for a moment saw grey brick walls…

 _“Martin? Martin!”_ He wasn’t sure who was calling, did it matter? They were calling but they weren’t and Martin struggled to make sense of the-

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty basement. The illusion of Gertie faded, taking with her the crew of MJN. Martin glanced around the basement and tried to go back, go back to where he was free and loved and _safe_ -

The door to his cell banged open and Martin cringed as much as was possible from the light. A tear ran down his face and he turned his head away not wanting his captors to see it. He didn’t understand what they wanted of him, but he didn’t want to appear weak in front of them.

He was an airline captain, after all.

There was a sharp pained inhale from the doorway and footsteps advancing towards him. He tried valiantly to push himself into the wall and hide there but it was a futile effort. Someone placed their hand over the ties on his wrists. Martin flinched, waiting for the pain of the blow surely following the movement.

“My God, what did they do to you?” an unfamiliar voice asked from right in front of him. Martin just whimpered.

“You’ve seen far worse John.” Came another voice, familiar but not, from further away.

“Yeah…but it wasn’t…wasn’t…” the voice before Martin broke and he found himself opening his eyes to see why. A kind looking blonde man was kneeling in front of him, his blue eyes full of empathy, anger and sadness. He was wearing an oatmeal jumper, which somehow struck Martin as funny. He would have burst out laughing if his throat didn’t feel like it had been attacked by sandpaper.

“He’s not me.” The other voice spoke, closer this time. Martin looked over the blonde’s shoulder and was confused because that was him standing there and he couldn’t be standing there because he was here and anyway, since when did he have black hair and any money for expensive clothes?

“I know Sherlock, just…just call 999. And Lestrade, those men up there need to end up in a prison cell tonight.”

Sherlock gave Martin one last searching look, before turning and leaving.

“Hello, Martin? My name is John. I’m going to get you out of here, but first.” Martin’s attention was returned to the man before him in time to see him pull a knife out of his back left pocket. Martin cringed and whimpered and tried to move away from John as far as the ties would let him. When he couldn’t get far he began to thrash in hopes of making it hard for John to cut him like they had before.

“Shh, no don’t move. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m a Doctor and I just want to cut those ties so you can move your hands. Okay?” John put the knife down on the ground and tried to calm Martin down. “I’m here because Carolyn, your boss asked my friend Sherlock to find you.”

At the mention of Carolyn, Martin’s thrashes started to die down. “Carolyn?” he croaked out.

John flinched at Martin’s voice. “Yes, Carolyn. I’ve met Douglas and Arthur too. They were on the Eye, something about Arthur wanting to know if it was like flying?”

Martin smiled at the happy memory from the dinner ( _days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes?)_ ages ago. “Yes, I remember.” He looked at John suspiciously as he stopped moving. “How did you know-“

John interrupted. “I told you, Carolyn hired my friend Sherlock to find you. Now, is it okay if I just use this,” he slowly picked the knife up, “to cut the ties? The paramedics should be here soon.”

Martin thought it through, before nodding. John quickly and efficiently cut the ropes around Martin’s wrists. He drew his hands down into his lap and began to rub at the burns there.

The sound of sirens echoed suddenly through the night. It was then all the exhaustion and pain of the…however long he had been there hit Martin fully and he felt relieved as the darkness claimed him.

********

It was easy to locate where Martin was in the hospital, or at least the nearest waiting room. All Carolyn had to do was spot Martin’s horrible unrelated twin and she knew she was in the right area. She was even grateful it wasn’t in the ICU because that meant Martin must be…not critical.

“How is he?! Is he okay?” she demanded of Sherlock nearly before she was in ear shot of him.

“That depends on your definition of the word ‘okay’. If you mean ‘okay’ as in alive, then he is okay. However, if you ‘okay’ as in uninjured he is not ‘okay’”

“I think I prefer the first one please.” Arthur piped up from behind her.

“Arthur, be quiet! You-“ Carolyn put her finger in Sherlock’s face, “tell me how my pilot is or I’ll-“

“Mrs Knapp-Shappey?” John came out from the clearly marked hospital staff only area, moving to stand beside Sherlock. “I was asked by the attending doctor to talk to Martin’s family as I said I knew them… he does have no family other than you, right?”

It was Douglas you answered. “His father is dead, he has a brother and sister he’s not close to and he’s never mentioned his mother. He sees Carolyn’s dog more than he sees his family.”

John nodded in understanding. “Right, well make sure they’re informed, please.”

“In the meanwhile, how is Martin?” Carolyn demanded.

John looked divided for a moment before speaking. “He will recover. He’s lost a bit of blood, his left arm is broken, he’s a bit dehydrated and he’ll have to stay a while for observation as there’s a risk of infection and possible internal injuries. I can’t tell you more than that; you’ll have to ask him the specifics.”

“Can we see Skipper? I want to tell him all about the Eye, he’ll love that.” Arthur asked the question everyone had on their minds.

“Yes. He’s not awake at the moment; the doctors sedated him when he became distressed. But you can sit by him until the nurses kick you out.”

********

Martin looked so much more fragile than normal, lying on the hospital bed. Arthur froze in the doorway, unable to go further while Douglas collapsed (not that he would call it that) into the chair by the bed and Carolyn moved to the other side of the bed.

“He looks like a child.” She whispered, running her hand over his forehead and along his cheek.

“He doesn’t look like Skipper.” Arthur sobbed from the doorway. “he looks all-“ he broke off and Carolyn didn’t think, but moved away from one son to hug the other.

“Arthur?” Douglas slowly asked. “Would you mind finding us all a cup of tea… we might be here a while.”

 ********

 Voices. There were voices around him, he could hear them and voices were bad because they meant captors and captors meant pain…

Martin began to thrash. Maybe if he moved enough they wouldn’t be able-

“Martin! Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself more!” A distressed voice broke into his thoughts and he froze, because she couldn’t be here, please God not her here…

“Martin? Are you alright?” Douglas’ voice was right by his ear and Martin opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Douglas instinctively.

Douglas smiled; a genuine, heartfelt smile, full of relief and Martin knew, even as he could hear Arthur screaming in excitement and Carolyn trying to calm him down and stop him hugging (tackling) Martin.

He was safe. He was _home._


End file.
